


straight up, what did you hope to learn about here

by irnan



Series: on a thin chain of moments and something like faith [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/pseuds/irnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick's not very good at keeping secrets from the people he loves, but he's slowly coming around to the opinion that there are some things that Bruce Wayne just shouldn't ever be allowed to know, OK, because the result would be a family fight, which around these parts means massive property destruction and someone becoming a supervillain: boycotting Christmas dinners and ignoring one another's phone calls like normal families do just isn't <i>emphatic enough</i> for a Bat. Pathological overachievers. </p>
<p>Not dissimilar to Robins in that way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(or: Three Conversations Dick Grayson Has About Jason Todd, That One Time A Couple Years Ago When Jay Was Dead, And How Talia Al Ghul Is Why Dick Can't Have Nice Things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	straight up, what did you hope to learn about here

**Author's Note:**

> OK, if there's a scene in Batman comics where Bruce actually finds out about the events of _Red Hood: Lost Days_ , then I have missed it completely and written this story accordingly. If such a scene exists, I pray you will simply consider this fic AU. 
> 
> Title from Matchbox 20; includes a side-helping of gratuitous Dick/Babs.

**(i – damian and bruce)**

“I thought you’d already read that,” said Grayson.

“In the Arabic translation,” said Damian absently. They were sitting on the balcony outside the penthouse in the spring sunshine; Grayson was supposedly working but the rhythm of his typing rather suggested that he was chatting a friend. Or several, knowing Grayson. Damian himself had finished his homework over an hour ago and was now embarked on more essential and important matters. There was a lot to learn from the greatest conqueror the world had ever seen. “This was a gift from Mother.”

He couldn’t resist glancing up to see Grayson’s face go stony. Damian knew perfectly well that he and Mother despised one another. It was funny sometimes to watch Grayson try to hide it for Damian’s sake.

It wasn’t _Grayson’s_ relationship with Mother that mattered.

“Todd sent it over last week,” he added, taking pity on the man. Grayson grinned at once, looking smug.

“Heh. I –“

“Jason’s in touch with your mother?”

They both jumped. Well, Damian did, though he would pretend otherwise till the end of his days. He had a feeling Grayson was putting it on a little, though he wasn’t sure whether that was for his benefit or for Father’s.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “She keeps tabs –“

He stopped. Father’s face had gone very still indeed; his lips were white.

“Why?” he grated out.

Damian swallowed hard.

“Bruce,” said Grayson.

“You didn’t know,” Damian said.

“Know what?”

“Bruce!”

“That she – took him in. Saved him.”

“No,” said Father, and suddenly the stone-like quality to his expression slid away, and he looked terrifyingly old for the first time that Damian could remember. “No, I didn’t.” Then it hardened again, edging on furious. “So that’s _two_ sons she’s kept away from me.”

“Don’t –“ said Damian suddenly. “What are you –“

“I’ll see you both at dinner,” said Father curtly, turning back away.

He didn’t get very far; Grayson had stood up and done that thing he did sometimes where he uncurled his whole body and seemed to grow a foot taller than he actually was. Damian had never been frightened of either of them, but that Team Leader stance Grayson could put on when it suited him made him a little… uneasy. It was out of character. That was all.

It brought Father to a halt.

“It’s none of your business,” said Grayson.

“He’s my _son_ ,” Father grated.

“Well, and his stepmother had custody for a couple years. What about it?”

“Don’t you dare be _flippant_ –“

“ _Someone’s_ gotta. It’s a little late for all that righteous indignation, no?”

“You don’t –“

“Get it?” said Grayson. “For God’s sake, Bruce. Jason’s _healing_ , in case you hadn’t noticed. Three years ago he would’ve blown the Manor up before he did anything as normal as bring a book over for one of us. Any one of us. I’m not gonna watch you ruin that by marching outta here and yelling at Talia – or at Jason himself – about all the things you think you _had a right_ to know.”

Father actually clenched a fist. It was so quick it barely registered as a flick of his fingers, but Damian forced himself into stillness and wished, stupidly, for the knife he carried in his schoolbag. Ridiculous. Father would never hurt him. Or Grayson.

“You’re asking me to do _nothing_?”

“I’m telling you not to ruin what’s left of your relationship with the woman who’s been a mother to two of your sons any more than you already have,” said Grayson.

There was an awful silence. For the first time Damian understood that expression about pins dropping.

Then Father left. They heard his heavy footsteps across the living room; the front door slammed.

Grayson sighed.

Damian worked to get some moisture back into his throat. All his pleasure in the fine, breezy evening had vanished, all interest in Alexander gone.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he managed, staring straight ahead at the skyscraper opposite.

Grayson did something then that he never did unless he thought Damian was asleep: he put both arms around him and pressed a kiss to Damian’s temple. Damian let him.

“He needs to get over himself,” Grayson said.

“ _You_ don’t like Mother either.”

“I haven’t liked your Mother since I was twelve,” said Grayson. “That’s got nothing to do with you. Or Jason. Or anything, really.”

Damian ducked his head. If it happened to fall, coincidentally, against Grayson’s shoulder, well.

“She put him in the Pit,” he said. “Jason told me. He said it gave him his memories back. I don’t know what he meant by that…”

He felt Grayson’s whole body shudder.

“I don’t think I want to,” he said brokenly.

 

 

**(ii – barbara)**

Babs was running diagnostics and eating ice cream when Dick arrived: via the front door, no less. She supposed it was a slow night for both of them.

“Greetings, Favourite Former Boy Wonder,” she said cheerfully. “How may I be of service?”

Dick smiled. It didn’t _quite_ have the full and proper effect a Dick Grayson smile should. “You could let me hang for a while,” he said. “I’ll sit in the corner and read quietly, I promise. I need a place to get my head straight where there’s little to no danger of Waynes.”

“Heh,” said Barbara. “I don’t think you’ve had that complaint in a good few years.”

“Ah,” said Dick, “but you were off doing your thing for Damian’s first few months in office.” He smiled at her again, but Barbara had to hide a wince. The mess they’d made of their relationship had been epic, long-lasting and above all mutual, but the one thing she would always be ashamed of was not being there for him when he’d needed her. The morning she’d thrown him out of her apartment after Haley’s had burned down was… well. Even Dinah had been unimpressed with that.

But all she said now was, “Come and sit down. There’s ice cream.”

“Sounds good.” He was wearing driving gloves, ridiculously, and tossed them on top of the monitor next to Batgirl. “Hey, little one, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I put them away for a bit,” Babs admitted.

Dick did a 360 turn, looking for Nightwing; Barbara pointed at the printer. He picked Nightwing up and settled him at the foot of Batgirl’s monitor, arms outstretched as if to climb up to her.

Barbara stooped to giggling. This time Dick’s smile was far closer to real.

“Come on then,” she said as he went to fetch Dinah’s chair. “Tell me everything.”

He slung his jacket over the back of the chair and fell into it beside her. Babs turned to lean on the back of her chair and watch his profile.

“Did you know about Talia and Jason?” he asked.

She paused. That… wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting.

“Well,” she said. “I didn’t _know_.”

“But you suspected.”

“The Al Ghuls were on the very short list of people who’d have both the resources and the motivation to hide Jason from Bruce and give him the training he’s so obviously had,” she said. “There was also Jason’s… Pit-symptoms. Bruce suspected as well.”

“But he didn’t know,” said Dick.

“I think he didn’t want to know. Wait. He does now?”

Dick sighed. He’d gone boneless in his chair, which wasn’t something you saw very often. Even on the verge of sleep there was usually a sense of energy and movement to Dick – as if he was just taking a power nap and would be up again in fifteen minutes, raring to go. “Jason told Damian, and Damian mentioned it in front of Bruce earlier this evening.”

“And Bruce flipped out.”

“And Damian’s moved on from the tragic honourable enemies viewpoint and has decided that clearly, Bruce and Talia actively loathe each other. And that he’s just made it all worse.”

“Oh God,” said Babs, dropping her head into her hands.

“And if Bruce's first reaction to the news that Jason and Tim are working together a lot is to march over to Jason's place and chew him out for it, I don't actually wanna know what Bruce will do with the information that it was Talia who saved him when we all thought he was dead. March over to Jay's and blame him for it, probably. _You knew what she was you should've known better..._ generally act like Jay owes him an explanation for… I don’t know, getting resurrected? I don't know." He sighed disgustedly. "I got Dami calmed down and rang Tim and Cass, so they’re gonna run interference.” And then, pensively, "I hate that woman. I really do."

Barbara had long since decided that discretion was the better part of valour where arguments about Dick's 'stepmother' were concerned. She focussed on the rest of his statement instead. “Someone had _better_. If Bruce does anything that throws Jason off –“

“I know.”

He was looking at her sideways, eyebrow crooked in amusement.

“I’m not being manipulative,” said Barbara, trying hard not to sound defensive.

“No,” Dick agreed. “Manipulative would be if you _sent_ Cass to find him on his birthday, or if you set up that case on campus with Steph, or arranged for him to start the social housing project with Tim.”

Bruce could have – would have – done exactly that. They both knew it. They both knew, too, that Barbara was not _incapable_ of emulating him in such respects; the old fight with Helena was proof of it. Equally, Barbara was sure that Dick was (probably) capable of doing the exact same thing. He never did, because he called infantilising immoral bullshit, but again: refusing to do something was by no means the same as being incapable of doing it.

Or maybe she was giving him too much credit for sneakiness. It was hard to tell with Dick: he was a Bat just like all the rest of them, which Tim and Jason in particular sometimes liked to forget, but he was also the most honest person Babs knew, aside perhaps from her father.

And people thought _she_ was complicated.

She leaned over and put her hands on his, resting loose against his thighs.

“I’ve not done any of that,” she said. “I swear to you.” Jason had been her Robin as much as Dick had, and she had always felt more protective of him, because even back then she’d been aware that Jason had been hurt in ways Dick never had. But she couldn’t shake a sense that Dick had… prior rights, somehow. “I’ve made it – I _hope_ I’ve made it clear to Jason that he’s welcome here, that he still has a place in this family. When the girls have worked with him I’ve encouraged that. Aside from that –“

“It’s all been him,” said Dick. “I know, Babs.” He threaded his fingers with hers, smiling. “I know.” She thought – hoped – he’d raise her hand to his lips the way he would have four years ago, but he didn’t. “He’s been getting better every day.”

“No Beatles songs.”

“I promise.” His thumb brushed across her knuckle, the skin between her thumb and forefinger. Then, as if realising what he was doing, he stopped abruptly, hands stilling under hers.

It felt like a loss.

“What will you do?” she asked.

Dick sighed. “Let Jay know that Bruce knows, and that he’s pissed,” he said. “Hope he’s OK to deal with it himself.”

“If he isn’t?”

“Then I’ll handle it for him.”

“Big brother to the rescue.”

“I’ve failed him enough,” Dick said, touch of sharpness in his voice. “If I can stop our Dad from dragging him into the crossfire of a fight between him and our stepmother, that’s not exactly much of a reparation.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you come out with. And I’ve heard you come out with some dumb stuff.”

That made him smile. Barbara shifted her weight as best she could, twisting further to get more comfortable. “You didn’t owe him anything,” she said quietly. “I love him, I want him back in our lives, but Bruce was his father, and Bruce took him in, and Bruce raised him. It’s not your responsibility to – to –“

Oh.

Oh, _crap_.

Dammit, Bruce.

Dick had started laughing, low but sincerely amused.

“To pick up the slack where he leaves off?” he said. “Of course it is. I’m Robin.”

Babs fell back in her chair, groaning. “That was not where this conversation was supposed to end up,” she said.

Dick just laughed harder. She felt that was completely uncalled-for.

“Ass!”

“You’ve remarked on the quality of that in the past,” he agreed, chuckling. He was about to let her fingers go; she could feel it.

Babs curled hers tighter and said, “Age cannot wither –“ and burst out laughing herself when Dick yelped, “Hey!” He tried to yank away, sulking; she wouldn’t let him.

“Bully,” he said. “Running a man over when he’s down.”

“You can handle it.” He was smiling again, but still not _properly_ , and he seemed – he was being guarded, just a little, just as if –

All of a sudden she knew exactly what to do. She still had a hold of his hand; it was a heartbeat between that and kissing it the way she’d wished for him to kiss hers just before. His hands were warm, they always were. She didn’t remember the knife-scar that lanced across the back of his left hand and up his wrist a ways, but her thumb caressed it as she dropped their hands into her lap and held them there, waiting.

Well, he’d made all the first steps the first time. You couldn’t expect her to let that sit on her forever. Batgirls and Robins were notoriously competitive.

_Now_ he was smiling properly.

_Oh_.

As answers went, she liked it.

He squeezed her hand once, very quick and fierce.

“When you see Jason,” said Barbara, “give him my love.”

“I will,” said Dick.

 

 

**(iii – jason)**

When Jason got Tim’s voicemail for the fourth time in two days he threw a pencil at the wall, growled something irritable into the phone, hung up, and climbed out of his living room window to go look for some member of this god-damned annoying family who could maybe tell him why Tim wasn’t answering his damn cell. He polished the speech on his way across the Bowery: _nah, I’m not worried, it’s just weird, that’s all. Nah, Cass, I’m kind of bored, I thought I’d track some mud into your and Timmy’s kitchen and annoy you for a while_.

Fortunately for his self-respect he swung across 36th and did a backflip off a parapet that landed him within five feet of Batman before he had to actually stoop so low as to use it.

Jason straightened up, feeling weirdly embarrassed about his little burst of unnecessary acrobatics. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to make it look pugnacious instead of defensive.

“What’s up with the Replacement?”

“Nothing that I know of,” said Dick. He looked like he’d been propping up that wall all night. Had he been waiting for Jason? “Why?”

“Tryin’ t’get hold of him for two days – he’s been attached to B at the hip, I think.”

“…ohhhhhh,” said Dick. “Well, I’ve been trying to get you for about that long.”

“Yeah,” said Jason. “I was busy. Hence, the need for Princess Timmy to haul ass over to my place and do some work.” He put on a suitably apologetic tone to appease the other man, just a touch of rueful for seasoning, and then realised to his own surprise that he meant it – he _was_ sorry he’d missed Dick’s calls.

Huh.

“Yeah,” said Dick. He pulled a grimace; Jason sighed.

“There goes your street cred. Batman really shouldn’t be allowed to pull faces like a pre-schooler.”

He had a feeling Dick was arching his eyebrows at him in the patented Alfred manner, and pulled a face back. Damian would understand him. Wasn’t that a scary thought?

Dick snorted. “I asked Tim to run interference for a couple days,” he said.

“Between B and…?”

“You.”

Jason blinked.

“Like I said, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

Jason rolled his eyes and tucked his hands into his pockets. It gave him the look of a surly teenager. He didn’t care. “What does he think I did now?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Dick. “It’s what Talia did.”

Silence. Jason turned that over in his mind thoughtfully. He’d spoken to Talia the day before yesterday; she’d talked about a thing she had going on in Yemen, and she’d given him some advice on dealing with a couple of the besuited business monkeys Jason had been confronted with lately; recommended a lawyer in Boston…

Then it hit him.

“You mean he _didn’t know_?”

Batman pursed his lips and gave a what-can-you-do tilt of his head.

“You mean _you_ didn’t _either_?”

No reaction.

“I don’t know whether I’m… kind of pissed, or I just wanna laugh,” said Jason. “All this time, did he never _wonder_?” He felt like that should’ve made him angry, but when you got right down to it it was more ridiculous than anything else. World’s Greatest Detective, Jason’s shapely ass. He had an urge to laugh.

“He looked,” said Dick. “But then Blüdhaven blew up, and he put the kibosh on it. I think he’d decided he didn’t want to know, or couldn’t handle knowing.”

Once upon a time, Jason would’ve liked the sound of _couldn’t handle it_ very much indeed, but apparently his recent trend of not really giving a damn about what Bruce thought was continuing apace. No wonder he was finding it sort of hilarious. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking it over, trying to puzzle out what Bruce would do…

Well, he’d deal with it the way Bruce dealt with so many of his problems: he would punch it till it went away, and continue punching it even when any sensible human being could see that the punching wasn’t working. Except not literally in this case cause if he raised a hand to Talia Jason would damn well cut it off, unless Damian got there first.

Damian. _Shit_.

“Is he gonna start a fight over this? Damian doesn’t need to hear that.”

“You’re telling me. He’s out in the Narrows with his friends this evening, he’s… well, he’s getting there.”

“Shit,” said Jason. “I shouldn’t’ve said anything to him. _Dammit_ , Bruce.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jason, sounding doubtful. Now he reckoned he knew why Talia hadn’t told Damian about him: she’d known it would get back to Bruce, and then! She was probably waiting on the opportune moment to Reveal All to Bruce and mess with his head. Well, either that, or she genuinely didn’t want him to know. It was sometimes hard to tell with Talia. He sighed, feeling a sudden need to open up his head and scratch an itch: messes within messes, everyone knotted up and trying to manipulate everyone else, everyone wanting something different from everyone else. _This_ was why he was better off on his own. How had he forgotten that?

“I should’ve brought you photos of his face,” said Dick. “I thought he was going to faint.”

Jason couldn’t keep back a laugh this time. But even so… he needed to go, right now, surely he’d hung around here for long enough? He started to turn, to look for a jumping-off point, held a goodbye in his mouth that wouldn’t quite come out. His feet wouldn't move. Just another sec.

“But I don’t think Damian’s been so freaked out by anything but Killer Croc.”

Aaaaaand he’d hesitated too long. There was no way Dick was doing that on purpose.

Was there?

Jason sighed. He knew better than this, he really did, Ma, honest, but he was still curious. Killed the cat. Well, he wasn’t Selina. He could risk it. Wouldn't be the first time.

“What _is it_ with that kid and Killer Croc?”

“Jay, no. I’m not telling on him.”

“I broke a leg over that feud you won’t tell on,” said Jason sulkily.

Dick shook his head. “Well, now Bruce is broken over you and Talia,” he said, and now he sounded amused. “I guess that’s only fair.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I can see him now, stomping around the Manor working himself up into a self-righteous fit. How dare she my soldier blah blah blah. Alfred, she stole my Ken doll!”

Dick laughed softly. Jason shook his head. They were both silent for a moment or two.

“Wow,” said Jason.

“Mmm.”

“So what –“

Dick shrugged, or Jason thought he did; it was hard to tell under the cape.

“Whatever you wanna do, I guess.”

Jason didn’t need to think about it for very long. “Ignore him,” he said. “It’s none of his business.” He turned away from Dick to stare out over the roofs of the city for a moment. Then he looked back. “She took me in and cared for me and protected me,” he said. “The why of it doesn’t matter, not to me. And she never asked me to be anyone but myself.”

_You’re learning._

_You’re healing._

“You don’t need to justify it to me,” said Dick wryly. “I’ve gone looking for worse ersatz mentors.”

“Riiiiiight. Superman?”

“Deathstroke.”

Jason gaped at him. “ _You_? _Deathstroke_?”

“Long story.”

“I think I’m speechless.”

“Well,” said Dick, and laughed. “I’m sure we’d all consider that a welcome first, little wing.”

Jason huffed.

“Babs sends her love.”

“Thanks,” said Jason. He grinned. “Hey, is it true what Tim said about you two?”

Dick’s turn to look away; but under the shadow the cowl cast across his mouth and chin, Jason thought he saw a smile.

“That was a while ago,” he said.

“De Nile,” said Jason. “Not just a river in Egypt anymore.”

“Ha!” said Dick. “Got any plans for tonight?”

Jason hesitated again, but: “No, I… guess not really. Why?”

“Thought we’d go pick Damian up, take him to Taco Bell, or… somewhere with junk food and a silly ambience. See if it cheers him up.”

“Hmm.”

“Bring his friends along.”

That made Jason laugh a rather more bitter laugh than he realised. “Gotham Academy’s finest, slumming it.”

He thought Dick might be rolling his eyes. Something about the tilt of his head gave the impression. “Not likely. Come on, Jay, stop dragging your feet. I wanna take the damn cape off and go do something good for someone that doesn’t involve violence for a change.”

“Oh, well,” said Jason. “When you put it like that.”

It didn’t sound unappealing. And Jason kind of felt like he owed the kid. Broken leg was nothing compared to Mom and Dad fighting. Jason should know. Pretending Dick had dragged him along against his will was… a plausible excuse for checking on the little demon.

What the hell. It had been ages since he’d last had tacos.


End file.
